


Family

by MEGrymz



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Domestic, Gen, Lots of headcanon, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-24
Updated: 2016-09-26
Packaged: 2018-07-17 23:22:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7290202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MEGrymz/pseuds/MEGrymz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jesse and Hanzo go on a trip to the farm that McCree grew up on, and Hanzo meets the family.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Road Trip

**Author's Note:**

> There's a lot of headcanon here, holy shit. Hope you enjoy!

"When you came in, the air went out!"

"McCree."

"And all those shadows filled up with doubt..."

"McCree, please."

"I don't know who you think you are, but before the night is through..."

"What _is_ this?"

"I wanna do _bad things_ with you!"

"Oh my god."

Hanzo reached out and turned off the car radio to silence that abhorrent music, in response to which McCree let out a howl of a laugh and took his feet off the dash, placing both hands back on the wheel instead of one-- a much safer driving technique, no doubt.

"What, you ain't a fan of the radio stations 'round here? I can't sit here in silence like we did the first hour and a half."

"We have been listening to the radio for three hours. I am quite tired of it." Hanzo frowned, but it proved to be a difficult expression to keep after McCree turned and gave him an expression so peeved that it was comical.

"Alright. What do you suggest we do, then?"

"I do not know," he sighed. "I was perfectly content with the silence."

McCree pouted, but didn't say anything more about it. "...Hand me my cigar?"

"Here."

* * *

"You have _got_ to be kiddin' me."

McCree took off his hat and ran a hand back through his hair stressfully. He'd driven over something pointy, maybe a nail, and now they had a flat tire on their hands. Hanzo stared helplessly down at it-- the damn thing was so deflated by now that it was almost depressing. "What are we supposed to do?"

"Hell if I know." The cowboy sighed and put his hat back on, tucking his hands into his waistband like he always did when he was frustrated. "This old piece of junk was my Pa's, from back when cars still had wheels. I mean, I know my way around a hover engine, but I don't know anybody that can change a fuckin' tire besides old people."

Hanzo folded his arms and tilted his head, thinking about it. "...Why don't you call one of those... Car businesses."

"A what?"

He pursed his lips as he struggled to find the English term, mind reeling-- "In Japan they are called レッカー車. They are large cars with hooks that move other cars..."

"Tow trucks?"

"Yes." That was the term.

McCree shifted his weight and thought it over. "...I suppose that's our best shot, yeah. You got some extra money?"

* * *

Hanzo still wasn't used to western beds, and he still wasn't used to the idea of sleeping in the same one that dozens of strangers had.

"It's a motel, sugar," McCree had explained. "We're just stayin' here until tomorrow. Don't freak out, it's clean, so you don't gotta worry."

Hanzo finished washing his face in the bathroom sink and put his hair down, allowing it to spill around his shoulders, then peeked out at the damn _bed_ again. It looked uncomfortable, and he held no desire to sleep in it. Unfortunately, it was his only real option. He turned the bathroom light off and dropped his hair ribbon on the nightstand, before climbing into bed with McCree.

It really _was_ uncomfortable, all springs and itchy fabric shifting loudly under his weight. It didn't seem to faze the other at all. "I wish we had Japanese bedding."

The cowboy wrapped his arms around the other's middle absently and spooned against his back, pressing a small kiss to his shoulder blade. "A futon?"

"Yes. Nowadays many people use a bed frame like westerners do, but I always preferred mine without one."

"We could make you a makeshift one at the farm."

Ah. The farm. Hanzo remembered the reason for their trip, to finally meet McCree's family. The idea made his stomach twist up with various anxious feelings, but he tried to let them go. "I think I would rather share a bed with you, as long as the mattress is more comfortable than this one."

"Of course, darlin'."

"What is your family like?"

The question pulled a laugh from the cowboy-- Hanzo could feel it against his back. It was nice.

"Well, there's my Ma and Pop, and I'm the oldest of five. I got two lil' sisters and two lil' brothers-- Joseph's 35, Judah's 31, and the twin girls, Jackie and Jillian, are 29. I feel real old around 'em." He smiled to himself. 37 wasn't bad, and Hanzo was 38, but damn if he didn't feel old when he looked at his siblings getting married and having kids.

Damn. _Kids_. "Joseph's married to a real nice lady and they've got a little boy, Judah's got a daughter, and the girls are both still datin' around. Jillian had a real cute girlfriend, but they broke it off last year."

It felt strange, explaining who all of these people were to Hanzo, who had no idea if they even existed until now.

"I am nervous about meeting them, but... You seem rather determined that they will enjoy my presence." Hanzo took the other's hand and squeezed it, but unfortunately the bit of his face that McCree could see was impossible to read.

"Sugar, I _know_ they will."

McCree let his mind wander.

 _Kids_.

His ma had better not ask about grandbabies.


	2. "¡Mi chiquito!"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter: the entire family of ten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Spanish is rusty. If I missed any errors or my slang is incorrect, please tell me!
> 
> EDIT: I received some translation pointers from MannyHeatlook and HanzuD. Hopefully now it's better. Thank you!

"Here it is."

It was a grand house, worn with age, but now, only mother and father lived in it-- four other houses dotted various points near the horizon, belonging to each child-- proximity allowed everyone to contribute to their shared work. McCree had one, a fifth on the furthest edge of the farm, but it was relatively untouched.

Hanzo stared absently at the dainty front porch and realized he was still wearing his kyudo-gi. He'd brought almost nothing but his usual traditional clothing out of sheer habit, and imagining future hours of cleaning stains out of them made his stomach drop. "I..."

"What?" McCree's brow furrowed when he saw the stress on the other's face.

"I am going to need to wear some of your clothing." They made eye contact, Hanzo's relatively concerned expression worsening as he took in McCree's initial surprise, but the cowboy quickly switched to a laugh. The sound was, admittedly, reassuring.

"Alright, we can arrange that. I guess what you got on ain't exactly suited for this environment, huh? For now, though, why don't you just mosey on up and knock on the front door?" He winked. "I promise they don't bite."

Hanzo took a very sudden interest in his feet.

"Aw, alright, alright, quit starin' at the ground. I'll do it." McCree patted his shoulder, stepping forward to the door, and gave it a heavy knock. There was a moment of silent suspense, and then the sound of boots on old wooden floors picked up, and two freckled children burst out.

"Uncle Jesse!" They wrapped their arms around him and giggled delightedly, one child on each leg.

"Whooaa, there!" He laughed and fluffed their hair, resulting in more giggles. "Christ on a crutch, you two are makin' me feel ancient. How old are y'all, now?"

The child attached to his left leg pulled away and smoothed her shirt-- it was baggy and a similar shade of red as her hair, with the words 'Rock Star' printed on the front in big, white lettering. "Eleven!"

The second kid, a little boy, just squeezed tighter with one arm and pushed up his glasses with the other. "Six."

McCree whistled out, long and low. "Well, dang. I'm impressed... Is everyone else here?"

His question was answered when he looked up, seeing all four of his siblings and his sister-in-law all gathered up and grinning at them, parents close behind. "Ma, Pop, Jesse's home!"

"Oh, mi chiquito!"

Hanzo watched, disbelieving, as the entire family of ten went on to cheer and hug and rough around, generally creating a ruckus. He felt very out of place, and it discomforted him.

McCree's mother slowly stopped fawning over him, and her attention shifted to Hanzo. He shifted awkwardly, lips pursing into a line.

"Jesse, is this your friend?"

"Well..."

Her eyes lit up, and she looked between her son and Hanzo. "Ándale, let me see him!" She was a short woman, but her presence was enough to fill a room (and then some). Charming, with her hair up and signs of age on her skin, she radiated a motherly aura. "Lo que es un hombre guapo, ¿dónde lo conociste? Quizás en Overwatch?"

McCree laughed, seeming a little embarrassed. "Sí, sí-- Ma, no asustar a mi novio..."

"¡Ojalá que no!"

McCree chuckled and looked rather sheepishly at Hanzo. "This is my ma, she's a real sweetheart."

Hanzo faltered. She wasn't what he was expecting at all. "It is a pleasure to meet you," he murmured, bowing without a second thought. "My name is Hanzo."

"¡Que mono! Hanzo, I am Jesse's mother, you may call me Esmeralda! It is so lovely for my son to bring such a charming man home to us."

She rambled on and on until the children pulled her away, and Hanzo stood, stunned.

"Overwhelmed?"

"Surprised," he confessed, sighing gently. "I did not know you were Mexican."

McCree chuckled-- he got that a lot. "Only half, but yeah, McCree sure as hell ain't a Mexican name. Ma's maiden name is Alonzo-Sanches, but after a long story she ended up just taking Pa's last name when she married him. Naming the kids American names, starting with 'J' of all letters, was tough. But it's what they decided." He shrugged.

"I see."

"Well, there's Joseph, Judah, Jackie, and Jillian... That's Joseph's wife, Victoria... That's their son, Edward, but we call 'im Eddy. That one there is Judah's daughter, Hope..." McCree pointed each person out individually as they milled around, trying to keep it simple. "...You look confused, so I'm gonna write this down for you later."

"Thank you," Hanzo mumbled. This was a lot to take in. A _lot_.

"Big redheaded guy over there is my Pa."

McCree's father stood quietly off to the side, and gave a little wave as he realized his son's attention. The man was clearly rather withdrawn and shy, but he wasted no time crossing the room to meet them. "Hello."

"Hey, Pa. This is Hanzo."

He held out his hand-- it was big, but Hanzo was surprised to find a very gentle handshake. "Hello, sir. It is a pleasure."

"You're real polite," he observed, smiling. "Name's Nicholas. You're my boy Jesse's partner?"

"Yes," he answered, slowly beginning to relax, but not by much. Still, McCree's father was much more Hanzo's pace. Soft, and quiet.

The two were fairly comfortable with each other, but eventually the conversation came to an awkward plateau where neither knew what to say. Instead, they watched McCree and his siblings. Right now, he had the youngest brother-- Judah, if Hanzo remembered correctly-- in a headlock while he gave him the noogie of a lifetime. It was uniquely sobering to watch.

"You must be treatin' Jesse real well."

Hanzo startled a bit at the sudden breach of the silence. "...Pardon?"

Nicholas shifted sheepishly and scratched at his beard. "He ain't usually in such a fine mood when he comes to see us. Usually worryin' about somethin' or other."

That made Hanzo hesitate. "...I am sure it is just coincidence, sir."

"You think?" His eyes had a bit of thoughtful sparkle to them, but he let the topic drop. "Mm."

Hanzo let that sink in for a few moments before the weight of it started to make him uncomfortable. "McCree?"

Ten pairs of eyes met his, and he screamed a little on the inside.

"Jus' call me Jesse." The cowboy unhanded his brother and stood up straight.

"Jesse."

"Yeah, that's right. Whaddya need?"

"I..." His mouth felt dry.

"What?"

"...I forgot. Carry on."


	3. Culture Shock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanzo isolates himself, and McCree has a heart-to-heart with him about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry about such a long wait for such a brief chapter, but more is on the way! I know I said I thought family would be in this chapter, but that got pushed back in favor of good heart-to-heart.

"Why have you been in our room all day? The kids are askin' 'bout you."

Hanzo looked back at McCree-- Jesse-- and then returned his attention to the window. It was a nice afternoon, sure, but that was no excuse for staying in here all day. It was, what, two o'clock? "It is quiet here."

Jesse stared, and realization washed over him, making his expression soften. "...Darlin'..." He sat on the edge of the bed next to his love, dreading the way his samurai leaned away from his touch. "If this is too much, all you gotta do is tell me... You know that, yeah?"

Hanzo was silent for a long moment.

"...Darlin'?"

"You all wear your shoes inside the house."

"What?"

"You all wear your shoes inside the house," he repeated.

"I don't understand what you m--"

"You all speak so loudly my head aches. You all roughhouse so much. You all cook in such large portions and I was _humiliated_  to not be able to eat all of my dinner yesterday. You all want to touch and hug and kiss and it's too close to me." His tone grew increasingly frustrated, like a fuse burning down, before he realized his own intensity and extinguished it without a word. The man had a lot of discipline, that was for sure.

McCree-- no, _Jesse_ \-- let out a breath and shifted his weight. "...Experiencin' a little culture shock?"

"That would be an understatement."

 

The two sat in silence for quite some time.

 

"...Hanzo?"

"Yes?"

"You know you can talk to me, right?" They met eyes, and Jesse gave his lover such a gentle look that it caught them both off guard. The moment was charged, vulnerable-- neither wanted to speak for fear of shattering it, but they had to. "You don't..." His brow furrowed as he struggled for the words he sought. "You don't... have to lock yourself up, anymore." Their fingers laced. "I'm here to support you, you can tell me anything."

"Anything?"

_"Anything."_

Hanzo broke eye contact, and the mood sunk in the air between them. "...I regret that I do not have a family to bring you home to."

Oh.

Fuck.

Jesse didn't know what to say-- his lungs seemed to deflate in his chest, what with how tightly it constricted on itself. He got the feeling that this was less about culture shock and more about a cornerstone of Hanzo's life, missing. His family, missing, ripped from his life with nobody but himself to tend to the immediate damage. Jesse had been a foolish child, willingly letting his ties go for the sake of a gang, willingly sacrificing something he took for granted just to earn the title of Deadlock Rebel. It was a miracle his relationship with his family was as good as it was now. Hanzo's estrangement from his own family, though? That unwilling, bloody mess of a separation? Jesse couldn't imagine that pain.

"...I can be your family now, you know." Jesse cupped his cheek-- Hanzo placed his hand over the other's and leaned into the touch, closing his eyes as he released a breath.

"You already _are_ my family."


	4. Gone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jesse's nightmares haunt him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short chapter. The next one is in progress already and I PROMISE that one will be cute!

Jesse woke up to a series of kisses across his bare collar and a hand in his hair. "Good morning," Hanzo breathed.

"Mornin', sweet thing..." He smiled and wrapped his arms around Hanzo, pulling him closer. "I gotta say, this is the sorta wake-up call I don't mind."

"I expected as much." Hanzo tucked a lock of his dark hair behind his ear and chuckled. "You Americans are all so keen on gushing affections..." Before Jesse could come up with an equally witty reply, Hanzo kept him silent with a kiss. "Mm... I just wanted to say hello and let you know that I am going to do some yoga. Then I will come back to bed."

"Have fun with that, it's too early for me." Jesse mussed his hair up and smiled, promptly burying himself in the blankets again. "Lemme know if you need me..."

"I will."

* * *

"Jesse!"

His hand flew for his Peacekeeper as he jolted upright in bed, panic thick in his chest and fear apparent on his face-- Hanzo grabbed his wrists and knocked the pistol off of the nightstand, far out of reach. "Jesse, _Jesse,_ calm down!" His arms wrapped around the other, holding him close until his nightmare-crazed gasping and trembling and crying subsided into something more tolerable. There had been a moment of chaos, and then it was gone.

Confusion washed over the both of them.

McCree took a shaky breath, blinking back tears that streaked down his cheeks anyway, flooded with post-nightmare weariness. Hanzo pulled back, face a solemn mask, though concern could be seen beneath it by a trained eye.

Silence.

"...What happened?"

Jesse exhaled, looking away-- Hanzo wiped a tear from his face. "... Bad dream. That's all."

"That's all?" Hanzo pursed his lips, dissatisfied with that answer. "You startled awake and grabbed for your gun. You are _crying_ and _trembling._ What happened?"

He tried to remember. Little of the night terror remained-- a voice all around him, a voice he _knew,_ that thick black mist curling around his ankles and twisting up until he couldn't move and there was a hand at his throat and he couldn't think, couldn't speak, it was all so much, the barrel of a gun against his chin and then it was gone, gone, gone. Hanzo was there, he was awake, and it was _gone._ Gone like smoke in the wind. Gone like Gabriel through all of their fingertips. Gone like the man that had taken a ratty gunslinging teen in and saved his life, gone like the role model that little punk had adored and gone like the man they'd mourned for years. Gone like Gabriel Reyes, the man who'd pulled a brat like Jesse McCree out of a lifetime of crime and horrible deeds to set him on the track to happiness, the track to becoming a gunslinger who dispensed justice and mercy in equal measure.

Gabriel Reyes was gone, and the only way he was ever coming back was in their nightmares.

He closed his eyes and pressed a kiss to Hanzo's hand. "Just come back to bed."


	5. Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Niece and nephew soften their uncle's heart a bit.

Jesse McCree was roused from sleep for a third time that morning by little footsteps pounding down the hall and straight into the bedroom, a cascade of giggles spilling in. Niece and nephew, Hope and Eddy.

"Uncle Jesse!"

McCree gave a loud groan of protest and rolled over, burying his face in the pillows-- Hope shook his shoulder and climbed up onto his back, smushing his face into the pillow. This resulted in a muffled groaning sound, and she yanked the pillow out from his grip, though not without some difficulty. “Wake up!”

Eddy had busied himself trying to gently rouse Hanzo from sleep and get him out of bed, gazing at the dark man and softly patting his face. “Uncle Hanzo?”

Hearing that sent a strange fluttery feeling through Hanzo’s chest and he opened up his eyes, a tiny smile given to the boy trying to wake him. Eddy gasped, hands moving away from his face. “Good morning, Edward.” He sat up, smoothed a wrinkle out of his undershirt, and got out of bed after fitting on his leg prosthetics, exactly as was desired of him.

Jesse wasn’t so eager to comply, however, and as Hanzo obediently went along to wash his face and start his day, Eddy trailing along behind, Hope continued to give McCree steely glares and hit him upside the head with his own pillow. “Abuela is gonna be mad if you don’t get up!”

“I would listen to your niece,” Hanzo mused, lips just barely curling up into a smile. “Little girls are a force to be reckoned with. What is the phrase? Hell hath no fury like an eleven-year-old scorned?”

Eddy’s eyes got huge-- Hanzo gazed down at him, puzzled, until the boy whispered, “I promise I won’t tell Abuela you said H-E-double-toothpicks.” McCree turned his head to peer over, made eye contact with Hanzo, and both men engaged in a battle of sheer willpower to keep from laughing.

“I, um,” McCree started, chuckling just barely under his breath, “I’d appreciate it if you got off me, sweetheart.”

“Why?” Hope adjusted her seat directly between his shoulderblades. “You can get up, you’re strong enough to lift me. It’ll be fun!”

"Nah, you don’t understand.” McCree took a comically serious tone. “If I got up you would die.”

“I would die...” Her skeptical, flat tone was enough to rival Hanzo’s.

“I reckon. Unless you think you can survive an encounter with…”

“With…?”

“...With the tickle monster.”

She stared at him, expression morphing into one of pure, unadulterated horror. “Oh my God,” she whispered. “You’re evil.”

“Run!” Eddy took off like a bat out of hell into the hallway, nearly running into the doorframe on his way-- Hope followed, and the children ran hooting and hollering to safety while Jesse howled with laughter.

Hanzo’s expression matched the one Hope had worn before she had fled the scene of this atrocity. “...Tickle monster.”

“Yup.” Jesse threw the blankets back and got to his feet, popping his back twice on the way up. Hanzo decided the sound was gross, but ignored it. “Works every time.”

"How absurd," Hanzo chuckled, and though he shook his head, a smile crept onto his lips. "You are something else, Jesse."

"I know." He offered a crooked grin before stepping over to push the door shut, then returned to and take the other's hands. "We're alone, now."

"That would be true, yes. We are indeed alone."

As soon as he was swept off his feet and into his partner's arms, Hanzo knew breakfast would have to wait.


End file.
